


The London Lioness

by TheWaitingFangirl



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fight Club - Freeform, Reader is tough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 21:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11471982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWaitingFangirl/pseuds/TheWaitingFangirl
Summary: You are the current champion of the London underground fight clubs. Used to defend your title with fierceness and ability, the people started calling you The London Lioness - since the lion is the symbol of the city. One day, an uprising fighter decides to challenge you for a brawl and, as the duty commands, you are bound to defend your position.





	The London Lioness

**Author's Note:**

> Took me a bit to write, but here it is! Thank you for sharing it with me <3 Sorry for the long wait, I had a huge writer's block and ended up writing like 2400 words in one single night as soon as it went away. I almost wrote this one for Arno, but I had this idea with Jacob and thought of giving some love to our British boy. I tried giving it a “Syndicate” vibe. Special thanks to robintheassassin and miss-t0mboy for helping me so much with the fic! 
> 
> Enjoy the reading!

The crowd cheered, loud and excited outside as sat down on the old wooden bench, starting the well-known task of wrapping the battered piece of gauze around your hand, the fabric unraveling as you covered your wrist the way practice had taught you; between the thumb and the index finger, hand well stretched to avoid jeopardize the movement of your fist.

After all this time, you still loved the feeling of anxiety and excitement before a big fight. You didn't start in this world yesterday, so it was no surprise when Robert approached you with the news of a fistfight competition — _one that you cannot miss!,_ he had said. _Think about the glory, the prizes! Everything you could ever want, Y/N!_

You smiled, now wrapping the gauze around your thumb and moving the bundle of fabric between your other fingers as you heard the grunting and the well-known sound of fists flying by.

"Come one, come all!" you heard Robert's distinguishable cheery voice over the yelling and cheering. "Ladies and gentl'men! Place your bets, don't be shy! Who are you with tonight?!" you heard the tapping of a cane on wood — probably the betting board — as Topping spoke again "Will our uprising challenger be able to beat our beloved London Lioness this evening?! Come closer, come closer!"

You smiled at the nickname, finishing wrapping your hand and moving to the next with unhurried practice. _The London Lioness_ is what they started calling you, thanks to Robert after you fought your way through a whole bunch of brutes and came out unscathed — earning you the _silliest_ nickname and the title of London's best fist fighter. When starting to wrap your left wrist in preparation for the fight, you allowed yourself to brush your fingertips over the name written on your skin and smiled. _One day, perhaps?_  


Shaking your head and huffing in humor, you resumed your activity quietly until Thomas — your newest pupil —, a 16-year-old street boy with sharp blue eyes and quick footwork entered the booth you were in, "Y/N? Ya almost ready?"  


"U-hum…" you hummed unhurriedly, lifting your head so your gaze could meet his "are they waiting for me?"  


Thomas nodded eagerly, a mocking smirk playing on his thin lips, his dimples showing on his freckled cheeks even more "Aye, they are. The guy's an all mouth no trouser if ya don' mind my sayin'."  


You chuckled at your pupil's words, shooting him a mocking stern stare as you wrapped now your knuckles "Did you happen to catch his name, Tommy?"  


"Oi, I've told ya to quit callin' me Tommy" he mumbled, frowning slightly as his cheeks turned pink from underneath the grime "and I didn'. They call him "Crow", though. Guy's big;  ain't gonna last that much. Looks like a right tit too."

You smiled, shaking your head slightly. A slow one, as it seems. Sighing, you nodded approvingly at Thomas as he gave you his best toothy grin "You know the strategy, don't you?" you asked with a quirk of your brow and the boy tilted his head slightly — a thing he always does when thinking — before speaking.  


"Don' get hit. Wear the guy down ‘til he's slow and strike, right?"  


You nodded again, getting up and making your way towards the boy. You'd always ask him questions, to make sure he was learning well what you taught; taking liberties and even teaching him how to read and making sure the change isn’t wrong, "good job, lad" you ruffled his shaggy brown hair "If I win, I'm taking you to the Old Joey's tonight" 

Thomas' smile widened, no doubt already thinking at the promise of a warm meal and some drinking later in the evening. You hated to admit it, but you took a liking to the kid; almost as if he were a younger brother you were looking over. "'re you really?" he asked almost childishly, eyes glinting in excitement.

"Of course I am, Tommy. Have I ever lied to you?", you pinched his cheek and smiled gently at him. "Now, shall we?"

  


* * *

  


"Ah, there she is!" Robert chimed, pointing at you with his cane "my golden girl, my little troublemaker!"  


"Whatever it is you say, Topping" you rolled your eyes up halfheartedly, turning around to take a peek at the audience. "Full house tonight, I take?"  


"Indeed, m'lady!" Robert agreed, taking your side quickly. "Now, tonight's challenger won't be easy, no! Far from it!"  


"Spare your tongue, my friend" you waved his words away with little concern, "Tommy has told me everything I need to know. Besides, you really think I wouldn't be able to handle whatever it is that you throw at me?"

Your friend gave you a lighthearted laugh, rubbing your shoulder with one hand as you both shared a knowing smile. "Yes, yes, m'lady… I'm merely warning you of what is to come…" he paused for a moment, seemingly considering if he should talk and before you could open your mouth, he ushered you onwards, "Now, let's give the people what they want, hmm?"  


Your smile widened, growing wicked as you listened to the yelling and cheering outside, as well as people calling you by your nickname — again, the _silliest_ nickname ever.  


" _Lioness! Lioness!_ "  


Robert half-dragged-half-pushed you forwards into the fighting ring, driving the people gathered around the place mad, money flowing from hand to hand as they made bets and cheered upon you. Your eyes darted to the other side of the ring, where a shirtless man talked to a few people wearing green coats — you recognized them as the Rooks, the uprising gang that now opposed the feared Blighters. So, that's where the bird nickname came from and you idly wondered, as you examined your adversary, if he played an important part in the gang as well.  


The man had broad shoulders and thick arms — you should totally avoid getting hit by those —, his already sweaty shaggy dark brown hair hastily pushed back to prevent it from falling over his eyes. He also had a tattoo on his chest — a bird, from what you could tell — and another one on his left arm, too small for you to make out from the distance. He had a nice constitution, maybe a bit smaller than what you've expected. Overall, the man seemed like a regular opponent, but you weren't known for underestimating anyone — a mistake most of your challengers insisted on taking upon, more than usually ending with them on the floor with a swollen and bruised face and while you received the glory for yet another fight.  


Oh, well. They didn't call you London Lioness over nothing.

And Tommy was right. He did look like a right tit with that cocky smile.

"Good people of London!" Robert boomed in his usual alluring voice. "Welcome, welcome all of you!" he made a small bow before continuing, pointing towards your challenger with his cane before motioning towards you. "Tonight a brave gentl'man, our newcomer Crow, has stepped into the lion's den, challenging our beloved champion, our fierce and favorite fighter; our London Lioness, Miss Y/L/N!"

The people exploded into cheers, some whistling, others simply yelling your nickname as they yelled in excitement when you lifted your arms and rounded the ring a bit. Oh, you loved this. You simply loved how excited they were at the simple mention of your name, how eager they were to see you taking yet another challenger down. Looking over your shoulder you saw the man move nervously, turning around and exchanging a few words with one of his friends before focusing on you again.

"Now, now!" Robert chimed in, raising both hands as to quiet the heart of the audience of The Strand. "Will our mysterious uprising fighter be able to take down our formidable champion tonight?" your friend raised his hands once more, cane swirling in the air as he moved around, making room for you and the man to approach the center. "A clear fight, my friends, a clear fight! Are you familiar with the rules?" You nodded at Robert, eyes analyzing the man as you took your fighting stance — almost by nature now. 

Hell, he was handsome. 

"Jacob?" Topping called, voice loud enough for just you and your adversary to hear. The man — now known as Jacob — blinked a few times before looking at Topping then back at you and you noticed he had eyes of the most beautiful hazel tone you had ever seen — big and open, like a book begging to be read.  


"I— Yes." He stuttered, cheeks already reddened by exertion taking an ever darker tone. Could he…?  
_No._

Now was not the time to make assumptions.

You loosened your shoulders, rolling them a few times before raising your hands into a defensive stance as he did the same. Robert nodded in satisfaction, stepping away as he put the ornamented cane into the air once more and the gong rang; the crowd going crazy as you started circling your challenger; forcing the man to go the other way in order to avoid you.  


"Don't let him catch his breath!" a man yelled at your left, spurring you onwards.  


As expected, Jacob took the first chance he saw to attack — the moment your eyes drifted towards the man who had called upon you — and your only reaction was to raise both of your arms to block his punch. Usually, you avoided blocking with your arms, half because they'd be sore as hell the next day and half because it was harder to land powerful blows with bruised arms. You groaned, backing away.

The bastard was quick. And strong.

Jacob gave you a shit-eating-grin, stepping towards you once more and prepared to hit you with his left fist; you waited, stepping to the side as soon as his hand came up, punching him in the stomach before spinning on your feet and kicking the back of his knee, your elbow hitting his back as soon as the man faltered. Jacob groaned in pain, getting on his feet with not much difficulty and dropping into fighting stance once more as he turned to face you. The crowd yelled in delight, praising you in their own noisy way.

"They weren't lying" he commented under his breath, a small hint of laughter in his voice; feet dancing around the dusty floor as he approached you with caution. "You're a tough one"

You smiled, both in surprise and smugness. "They don't give you the title of champion if you are all talk and no action."

He huffed, coming closer to you in a defensive stance, ready to block your blow and, most likely counter it. You pulled your right hand, pretending to prepare one punch towards his stomach, changing the trajectory at the last moment and hurling your fist towards his face; but Jacob was quicker and blocked you using his forearms to push your hand away from his face, throwing his head back and headbutting your face.

" _Bloody hell!_ " you hissed in pain, feeling your nose with your fingertips to check if he had broken it — but it seemed okay, despite the blood. The audience gasped, slightly surprised at seeing you being bested by a newcomer at this point. It was rare for you to be countered, even more so to get hit. You wiped your nose clean, the blood staining the gauze wrapped around your fist as you watched the man frown at you; eyes trained on your left wrist.

You didn't expect him to be this quick, nor this smart. He clearly knew what he was doing and it worried you as he came closer. Jacob took a false step towards you, likely trying to strike your right cheek, and you evaded his fist; taking the chance to box his ears as his guard went down. The man lost his balance, become disoriented for a second and you kicked his feet from below him, taking him down and sighing in relief as you were given time to catch your breath.

"Kick him in the balls!" A particularly loud woman in front of you yelled and you wondered of she even knew the rules for fistfighting.

You backed away, hoping from one foot to the other as you watched Jacob get up with another pained groan, raising his fists once more. After that blow, he shouldn't even be willing to keep going. You were clearly quicker, even if he were stronger — which was the case — it'd be unlikely to win by now. He approached, brows furrowed in frustration as you gave him yet another toothy grin.

"Having fun?" you asked, a little out of breath as you started dancing again.  


Jacob scowled at you, puffing a laugh as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Oh, I'm just getting started, love."

You stepped closer, taking advantage of his attention on your words and jabbed him in the ribs twice before pulling away quickly, hoping on your feet as your slow and labored breathing started to come out in quick puffs at the exertion of the fight. Jacob wheezed, turning around to look at you in disbelief. "Come now, little bird. Are you afraid?" you teased, raising your fists to the sides of your face as Jacob fulminated you with his eyes.

"Finish him off!" you heard Thomas yell from your right, catching his blue eyes at your peripheral vision. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called "Come on, Y/N! Take him down!

Jacob's steps faltered once again and he dropped his fists to the side, head snapping towards Thomas as he heard your first name, a look of utter disbelief on his face, " _What the bloody_ —" and you punched him square into the face, your blow hitting him so hard that Jacob toppled back before falling to the ground with a low thud.

The people went crazy, hands being thrown in the air at yet another successful defense of your title. You put your arms up, nodding at people complimenting you and others who swore at their loss for betting against you. Looking back, you saw the two Rooks — a man and a woman — enter the ring and hurrying towards the fallen comrade as he groaned lowly, and you hated to admit it; but you paid attention to them, even as Thomas clumsily made his way towards you, clambering onto the wooden structure of the arena with difficulty.

"Are you alright, sir?" the man asked, offering him a clean rag to press against his busted face. "Quite a beating you took, eh?"

"I've told you, Mr. Frye," the woman said nonchalantly as the man sat down. "Challenging Miss Y/L/N like this? A taste for death, it is"

Frye.

_Frye._

_Jacob Frye._  


You gasped in shock as the realization came upon you, gaining an odd stare from Thomas as he approached.  


"Y/N?" he called in a confused voice.  


"Jacob Frye!" you parroted to him, looking down at Tommy with wide eyes, pushing the wrappings off your wrist in a haste to check the two words you knew so well as you made your way towards the fallen man with quick strides, your pupil at your heels; not knowing fully what to do.

_Bloody hell, you had just beaten your soulmate down._

"By God," you started, not knowing if you should kneel or offer him your hand "I'm so sor—"

"Don' be, luv" Jacob cut in, pressing the bloodstained rag to his nose, waving you off with his free hand. "I was wonderin' how I was gonna run after you like this, but I'm glad you took pity on your poor challenger after absolute'y destroyin' me."


End file.
